


Beneath The Surface

by Denstort



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Gen, Some Angst - Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:50:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denstort/pseuds/Denstort





	Beneath The Surface

He’d laughed with all the other kids, because he was new and badly wanted to fit in, to gain some friends.

He hadn’t expected the victim of the joke to burst into tears and run away. He also hadn’t expected a pang of guilt to temper his mirth.

He stood and listened to the boys as they called after the fleeing figure.

“Weirdo!”

“Cry-baby!”

“Weasel face!”

Once the small crowd had dissipated, he went after the boy, concern wracking his conscience.

He found the boy sitting on a wall, head down, looking thoroughly miserable. He took a deep breath and walked over and sat next to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The boy looked up and he noticed how blue his eyes were, and that he looked nothing like a weasel. 

“Why do you care!?” the boy snapped.

He blinked…blimely, where had that attitude been a few minutes ago. The boy’s eyes told him he was a gentle soul, trying to hide behind a tough exterior.

“Just leave me alone,” the boy said and walked away.

He didn’t follow…but it turned out, they would meet again.

******************

Twenty years on and Dominic Howard had learnt that Matthew Bellamy, despite his prickly exterior, was a sensitive soul. One that the wrong word said or action taken, could easily be hurt…and slow to forgive.

Many people over the years had asked his fellow bandmates and friends, how the managed to put up with their capricious and temperamental front man.

Tom had once described Matt as being like an Arabian horse….flighty, skittish, perhaps stand-offish but when it moved, it was a thing of beauty.

And that was Matt, put him in a social situation that was strange to him, and he was more than likely to either ignore people or run for the hills. But put him behind a guitar or in front of a piano, and like said Arabian horse; he moved with grace and power.

But like all things beautiful, he was fragile, and that prickly surface could break and the sensitive soul would be exposed; like a raw nerve.

Most times he took things with good grace, like his lack of fashion sense, when you told him that he’d looked like a demented Liberace in that glittery suit. And if others criticised his clothes, it wasn’t his fault they had no vision.

If they criticised his music, he didn’t care….don’t like…don’t listen.

The same with his private life. H never read or watched the TMZ’s of the celebrity world, and if he did happen to catch one that was derogatory about his looks or the like; he just didn’t care.

But sometimes, that raw nerve was hit.

************

Dom knew that something was wrong as soon as Matt walked into the studio; something had gotten to him.

He appeared to be taking his anger out on his instruments, which was not a good thing, as that Bassendorfer was a very expensive piano.

When another set of discordant notes drifted into the small kitchen, Chris said to Dom.

“Something’s eating him.”

“I’ll go and talk to him.”

When he entered the smaller studio, he could see that Matt was still at the piano, but he wasn’t playing. His head was resting on his arms, using the keyboard as a pillow.

He thought Matt had fallen asleep, his anger perhaps dissolving into tiredness.

Then a small sob escaped the singer…was he crying?

Had he and Kate had an argument, but he doubted that. They may have split up, but they were still friendly, and Matt saw Bing as much as he could…he was no dead-beat dad.

“Matt?” Dom said, as another sob left the singer.

Dom sat on the stool and put a hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“Matt, what’s wrong?”

Matt looked at him, and Dom could see that he’d been crying for some time.

“Dom?”

Dom knew that tone in Matt’s voice…a huge question was about to be asked.

“Dom…do you think I look like a weasel?”

Dom was immediately taken back to that day in school…where had this come from?

“Of course not, why are you asking?”

“Kate told me…she heard someone at a party say that it was lucky that Bing inherited the good look gene from her and Goldie. The person said I looked like a drowned weasel. Kate tore them off a strip… she was so angry about it. This…this person is…no was a friend.”

“People are bitches Matt, you know that. Just jealous cause’ they have no talent or lives. Ignore the haters. There’s so much of you in Bing, he has those killer eyes and that pout, which by the way he knows how to use already. He’s going to an awesome kid, let’s face it, he has me as a godfather.”

Dom smiled when he saw Matt’s face brighten a little, then he saw that certain glint in his eyes.

“I swear, if he ends up with an obsession with leopard print……”

********************

In the small kitchen Chris and Tom were startled by a small brunet blur being chased be a slightly larger blond blur and that unmistakeable cackle of laughter, they knew things were fine.

“Looks like we won’t need the Wolstenhug after all,” Tom said.


End file.
